


Untitled in Space

by lokimostly



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Thor: Ragnarok (2017), F/M, Loki x Reader - Freeform, Loki/reader - Freeform, Reader Insert, Whump, Whumptober 2019, loki/oc - Freeform, loki/original female character(s) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 06:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20869589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokimostly/pseuds/lokimostly
Summary: After Ragnarok, the people of Asgard must learn to forge a new identity, under the guidance of a new king. Everyone must do their part to ensure the survival of their group.This is an archived, permanently 'unfinished' fic series archived here at the request of my followers on tumblr. <3 If you want to read the newer, better version of the series, look out for 'Hourglass.'





	1. Prologue

“Nine hundred and forty-eight,” Loki quipped succinctly, the metal doors sliding shut behind him. Thor frowned, turning to look at his brother, uncrossing his arms. “Surely more than that.”

Loki shook his head silently. He stood next to the throne – though he wouldn’t call it that, it wasn’t nearly grand enough – where his brother leaned on one arm, finger against his lip in thought.

“But Asgard housed thousands,” Valkyrie’s voice objected, somewhat slurred, from the corner. “You’ve obviously miscounted.” She pointed at Loki with her bottle, swirling the blue liquid with raised eyebrows. 

“I don’t think I’d be off by a thousand,” Loki snapped. Thor reached a muscled arm out to his brother.

“No need for that.”

Loki cast a glance at Thor, managing to lessen his frown to look slightly apologetic. He exhaled gently, making an inarticulate gesture with his hand before raising it to his face and rubbing at the temple tiredly. How many days without sleep? His bout with unconsciousness after being tasered on Sakaar certainly didn’t count. From the frequent blurring in his eyes, the dizziness - and the fact he couldn’t remember the days themselves, Loki could only guess he was on the second half to a dozen. Six, seven … something like that.

“I’d love it to be untrue, but those are the facts,” Loki began again, directing his words at Valkyrie. From the dimly lit corner, she swallowed and narrowed her eyes at him, pursing her lips.

“How many are injured? Orphaned?” Thor asked, turning once again to the glass, and the view of the cosmos behind it. They seemed to glimpse a new cluster of the universe every day, despite the agonizingly slow pace of their travel. 

“I’m afraid I’ve no idea,” Loki said flatly. “Heimdall could tell you more. You know I’m just trying to–”

“–To help, I know,” Thor finished quickly. He clapped his brother on the shoulder, smiling tiredly. “But I think you’ve done enough for now. Take a breather.”

Loki scoffed lightly at his use of midgardian vernacular, shifting his shoulders and making a noncommittal shrug. “I disagree, but… if you insist.”

~

You jogged through the corridor and into one of the bays, greeted by the sound of a hundred low, pained voices. Quiet, steady murmurs were pierced by sharp cries. What extra clothing anyone had brought had quickly become bedding, but it still wasn’t enough. Another thing you had to mention to Heimdall.

“Coming through, sorry,” you murmured quietly, slipping past Asgardians kneeling beside their loved ones. They made the work difficult, being here, but you couldn’t seem to find the empty-heartedness to send them away. After the events of the last 12 hours…

“My lady!”

You turned to the sound of the voice, coming quickly to the side of a young man, cradling a small boy. You pushed up your torn sleeves and gestured for him to set the boy down. You set your shoulders and locked your jaw before examining the wounds. Bruises and cuts marked his skin and face – average injuries. Not what you were here for.

You went quickly, carefully, unbuttoning his shirt to examine his chest. Nearly unscathed. Then your eyes fell downwards to his trousers were bloodied and torn, deep. As soon as you reached to pull back the fabric, you felt the man beside you inhale sharply. You glanced at him, gauging his expression before turning back to the boy.

“Are you his brother?” You asked, your voice even as you continued removing the sticky fabric. Distracting him was the only way you could keep him from hovering, or worse, intervening.

“Father,” he responded, voice breaking. He ran an unsteady hand through dirty blonde hair and laughed shakily. “He takes after his mother, though.”

“He’ll grow up looking more like you, I’d bet,” You smiled absently as a comforting reflex, having completely exposed the gash. It ran along the thigh, cutting nearly to the bone. Frowning, you reached into your dress pocket and pulled out a cloth, pressing it flush against the wound. The boy moaned, and the man beside you’s eyes snapped upwards. 

“A-are you hurting him-”

“I’m doing what I need to,” you quipped, leaning over the boy and brushing the hair from his face. Your lips quirked in a gentle smile. “What’s your name?”

The boy’s eyes were lidded heavily, his pale, clammy brow furrowing as he struggled to speak. “Avel,” he croaked, licking dry lips.

Your hair fell over your shoulder loosely as you nodded, smiling. “I’m Y/N,” you whispered gently. “I know you’ve been awake a long while, but I only need you awake for a few more minutes. Can you do that for me, Avel?”

He nodded slowly, eyes closing briefly.

“Good. Your parents are so proud of you. Just a few minutes, alright?” You leaned back and dug out another piece of fabric with one hand, unwrapping it with your fingers and grasping the thin needle and suture. You glanced at the father, nodding towards your hand. “Keep pressure on that for a moment, please.”

He nodded quickly, taking the place of your hand reluctantly, his pressure not nearly as strong. You frowned, glancing at his hand before focusing back on looping the string through the needle. “Pushing less will hurt, not help.” The man clenched his jaw before applying more pressure.

You looped it through and gestured for him to remove his hand, taking the cloth and using a clean corner to wipe away the blood around the skin. It was surprisingly uninfected- the immaculate state of the ship surely helped. Moving quickly, you began looping and tying off single stitches, biting your lip in focus each time you pierced the skin._ Eleven, tie. Loop. Twelve, tie. Loop. Thirteen…_

Twenty-four stitches, at least half your suturing thread. You tied off the final knot and inhaled deeply, leaning back and pointing to one of the women helping another wounded.

“Layre has fabric to wrap his leg with. Tight, but not too much. Keep it there at least a day, and check periodically for infection. If you find an apothecary, use whatever ointment you can borrow. Alright?”

The man nodded numbly, his chest shuddering. “Th-thank you.”

“Make sure he breathes through his sleep,” you added, standing up and putting your tools in your pockets, the sleeves of your dress falling back down to your wrists. “I haven’t been with him, I don’t know how much blood he’s lost. If you think he needs a transfer, do it as soon as possible, yes?”

The man stammered somewhat, eyes laced with confusion. “T-transfer blood?”  
  


You pressed your lips together slightly. It was so easy to forget the boundaries of the limited medical knowledge shared by the Asgardian commonwealth. Even among the nobles, but you didn’t blame them. Neither had your father. Intergalactic medicine was, at best, an unusual field of study.

“Yes,” you replied. “Quite safe. Find me if you need help, alright?” You turned without waiting for a reply, your eyes scanning for any others in need of serious attention.

_Be gentler_, you chastised yourself gently. _They deserve nothing but kindness._

You all did.

“My lady?”

“It’s like nobody knows my name,” you murmured jokingly before turning and making your way to the voice, to where Heimdall stood. You bowed your head slightly, pieces of hair falling in front of your face. “Yes?”

“It’s been requested, by the king,” he explained, “that I provide a… thorough and detailed report of all the citizens. Not just a headcount. However–” he paused, raising eyebrows slightly and setting his hand on the hilt of his sword “–I’m inclined to believe that you know more than I do.”

You frowned, lifting your head, confusion open on your face. “But, Heimdall, I’m sure that’s not the case–”

“Really?” he asked. “You think I know how many nurses you’ve gathered, what supplies have been used, or how to make sense of the organization behind… this?” He gestured to the beds and people scattered about.

You scoffed. “There is no organization. It’s chaos.”

“But you know how to make sense of it.”

“I wish I could apply method to the madness,” you admitted, drawing a laugh from the warrior.

“Yes, I assumed you’d say something like that,” he conceded. “I’ve been watching you when you haven’t been at my side in the past days. You step up to lead like it’s your birthright.”

“Far from the truth,” you laughed, wrapping one arm around your waist and shrugging, surprised at the soreness of your chest.

“So, I’m sending you to Thor,” he conceded slowly. Your smile dropped, but he held up a hand to continue. “My duties are already laid out before me. To delegate this chaos to you would help all of us.”

“Then I suppose I can’t really decline,” you murmured, sighing tiredly. You reached up absently to rub the blurriness from your eyes. When was the last time you’d slept?

A few loud voices behind you drew your attention and you turned, watching two girls run to each other and embrace, tears falling freely down their faces. You could remember how it felt– the unease, the anxiety of wondering if someone was alright, where they were, if they were alive. But not the relief of it.

You turned back to Heimdall, setting your shoulders and inhaling deeply, smiling. “When does he want to see me?”

“Whenever convenient,” Heimdall recited, his golden eyes twinkling knowingly. “So I assume you’d like to go now.”

You nodded, tucking your hair back. “Yes. It’s been far too long.” 


	2. Part One

Your bare feet padded softly along the cool, metal floor as Heimdall took you to the throne room. You wouldn’t call it that, really – it was the captain’s room of a ship, not a grand hall – but somehow it carried the same sacred weight. You pulled up the skirts of your dress absently, balling the fine fabric in your fingers. It occurred to you that it was now your only piece of clothing.

“I never thanked you for your help,” Heimdall said suddenly.

You frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“For aiding me in the evacuation,” he explained. While your pace was even, you had to take two steps for his single stride. He rolled his shoulder in a shrugging motion. “I knew I could trust few. You have always been ready to adapt when needed. Even if you’ve taken on a more traditional role as of late,” he added, gesturing to your dress and hair, both akin to traditional Asgardian style. “That flexibility is a skill that serves you well.”

“I learned from the best,” you supplied, your mouth forming a tight-lipped smile.

“So you did,” he agreed amiably, turning down the hallway and stepping through the open doorway. You followed at his side, dropping your skirts and clearing your throat before looking up. Your eyes widened in surprise to see Thor coming to meet you, a smile split wide on his face. Before you knew it, you were swept up in a hug, laughing despite yourself as he spun you around.

“Oh, my friend, I’ve missed you,” he grinned, setting you down gently. For such a tall, strong figure, he was always incredibly gentle.

“The same,” you admitted, smiling and gesturing up to your face. “I like the look.”

“The– oh, the eye. Yes, it’s growing on me.”

“It suits you,” you laughed. Your smile faded as your eyes focused to the person standing at the helm, her silhouette outlined by the starlight through the glass. Your head bowed slightly as you lowered your eyelids in respect. “Lady Valkyrie.”

“Oh, please,” she snorted, tossing a thin, empty bottle into the air and catching it repeatedly. She stepped down from the helm a bit unsteadily, her laugh breathy and low. “You can cut the theatrics.”

You frowned, head lifting to look at Thor for guidance. He shrugged. You cleared your throat, decidedly squaring your shoulders and nodding. “Alright, then.”

Valkyrie laughed, continuing to walk towards you, raising her eyebrows at Thor as if impressed. “Alright, then,” she mimicked, catching the bottle and using it to point in your direction. “I’ll see you… no.” her eyes narrowed and she moved the bottle to Thor, pursing her lips. “You. I’ll see you later.”

“Rest well,” Thor nodded, glancing at Heimdall. He nodded imperceptibly, turning to walk with Valkyrie as she exited the room, intent on escorting her safely to her destination. The metal doors slid closed, leaving you alone with Thor in the large, empty room.

“Is she drunk all the time?” 

“I can’t tell, to be honest,” he admitted easily, and you laughed. His easy-going honesty was something you’d missed. It struck you with a sudden, painful nostalgia. You looked down at the floor, shifting your weight and wiggling your toes. Thor looked down as well, chuckling. “And how did you misplace your shoes?”

“I used the flat soles as an arm brace and the soft fabric for wraps,” you answered automatically, shrugging. “The temperature in the ship is pleasant. The only thing I need fear is dirty feet.”

“So you’ve been helping the wounded?” Thor asked, moving towards the helm. You followed, taking your time as you spoke.

“I began working as soon as we took off. Suturing, resetting bones, wrapping…” you sighed. “I’m sure this ship has medicinal capabilities. But we haven’t had the time to do any sort of exploring. I’m sure there’s a map somewhere…”

“That would be useful,” he admitted, sitting down in the chair and propping one knee up, leaning on his elbow.

“…and we’re low on supplies,” you continued. “Bedding, food, medicine. I know you received a headcount–”

“Nine hundred and forty-eight, yes.”

“–but they’re disorganized. Some people still haven’t found their families, friends. We’ve already lost two adults and one child to severe injury.” You exhaled deeply as you stepped up to the helm, coming to stand beside him. The two of you gazed out of the glass, watching the slow passing of a rosy, auburn nebula, spread out like broken spiderwebs. _Is this what our descendants will do,_ you wondered_, instead of look for shapes in the clouds? _

You realized Thor had been speaking. Your raised a hand to your face, rubbing your eyes. You could feel the dull beginnings of a headache in the back of your skull. 

“Sorry, what?”

“You have a better grasp of our situation than anyone else,” Thor repeated, watching as you tried to banish your fatigue. “Heimdall was right to suggest you.”

“I appreciate his recommendation.”

“And I know you’ll impress. You always have,” he admitted easily, his smile kind.

You scoffed lightly in response, sighing as you crossed your arms. A faint humming resounded within the walls and you felt a slight draft of fresh, cool air. “Your brother didn’t think so.”

Thor frowned, tilting his head. There was a small, knowing smile on his face, but less joyous. “I’m think I disagree.”

You shrugged, trying to keep your expression impassive. “Do you mourn, still?” Your voice sounded hollow in your throat.

Thor frowned. Did you not know?

He opened his mouth, but you inhaled deeply before he could respond and smiled graciously. “Back to the matter at hand. What would you have me do?”

“Take the role of chief advisor, of course,” he replied automatically, but his expression was still troubled. “Give you authority to… delegate, organize. You’ll be needing an outfit to suit the job,” he added, smiling as you looked down at your tattered state, as if seeing the rips and stains in your dress for the first time.

You laughed quietly, nodding. “I agree. This doesn’t quite suit me anymore.” You snapped your fingers suddenly. “That reminds me. When are we stopping at a port?”

Thor frowned, shrugging. “I… honestly hadn’t considered that.”

“We have to. As soon as possible,” you stressed. “And do a full run-through of the ship to see what supplies are already on board.”

“Yes, that’s true,” he murmured, sighing before standing up and nodding. “I assume you’ll want to go off-ship yourself?”

“Definitely.”

“I’ll arrange a party, then, and stop at the earliest opportunity.” He smiled, putting his large hand on your shoulder gently. “I’m truly glad to have you here, Y/N. We’d be wanting for guidance without you.”

You blushed, shrugging and crossing your arms, smiling faintly. “At your service, my King.”

~

Thor pressed his knuckles to his lips gently, walking alongside the glass windows. He hadn’t yet adjusted to the lack of sunlight to tell the time, and despite the exhaustion in his body, sleep was far from his mind. Instead, he was thinking of you.

How could you possibly not know Loki was alive? Perhaps the news hadn’t reached your ears while still in Asgard; from what he could guess, your hair and clothing hinted at rural life-– but Thor also knew you’d spent time with Heimdall in exile. Both left you in isolation, so he supposed it was possible…

You were a puzzle to him, always had been. Perhaps if–

“What news?” Loki asked, walking in through the doorway. Thor turned, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you were resting, brother.”

“Sleep evades me,” he responded, obviously bothered by the fact. “And the green giant is in the room next to mine. Do he and the Valkyrie ever stop talking?”

Thor laughed, earning a tired scowl from his brother.

“It’s not funny.”

“It is. A little,” Thor admitted. “You realize you don’t have to stay in that room.”

“I’m well aware,” he grumbled, running a hand over his raven hair. “But I can’t seem to find another suitable one. I’m going mad.”

“Well, perhaps you could provide insight on another matter. Do you know where the nearest port is?”

“The _nearest_?” Loki frowned. His eyelids felt heavy as he shook his head. “Knowhere, I assume. It’s ironically close, no matter where you are. I can go up to the navigation room and adjust our course.” He paused, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head slightly. “I hope you’re putting together a party to disembark.”

“Yes, and it includes you,” Thor verified. Loki nodded approvingly, reaching up to rub his temples. “Well, you’re obviously putting me to use. Should I be pleased, or concerned?”

“You should feel… filled with purpose,” Thor corrected dramatically, making a grasping motion. “You’re taking life by the reins and contributing to the greater good.” He clapped his brother on the back with a laugh, making him jolt. “It’s a service to your people.”

Loki rolled his eyes and scoffed, but the shadows of a smile played with the corners of his lips. “I never knew you were so theatrically inclined. You should really take up dramatic arts.”

“Organize a group and I will gladly participate,” Thor smiled cheekily. “You’ve done it before.”

Loki sighed and waved his hand dismissively as he stepped away from the helm, bringing his hand up to pinch his nose. “Spare me an ounce of dignity, I beg you.”

“Did you have any to begin with?”

“I’m going now,” Loki sang, turning on his heel and heading out. The doors slid shut silently behind him, and Thor smiled faintly. He may have been a fool for loving Loki, after everything, but at least he was a happy fool.

~

“Your rooms are in corridor E, number 12,” you instructed, pointing to one of the doors leading out of the bay. “The number is marked on the outside, so you’ll find it easily. Bring any personal belongings you want to keep– leave anything else for us to put to use.” You smiled comfortingly at the girl, who seemed barely older than an adolescent. Her hazel skin was smudged with blood and dirt, lines heavy under her eyes as she shifted the sleeping baby in her arms.

“Thank you,” she croaked, offering you a tired smile. You returned it, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder lightly. “Don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

She nodded quickly, eyes watering before she ducked her head and made her way towards the door.

You’d left Thor in the throne room– though calling it that still didn’t feel right –and immediately set to exploring the ship. There were five decks, but luckily, you’d only needed to travel two before finding the navigation room. The hologram maps inside laid out the ship’s design.

You’d memorized the basics: deck one, landing bay and storage; deck two and three, residential and maintenance; deck four, air circulation and production; five, navigation and control. Asgardians were spread throughout the top three decks.

Now, hours after your meeting with Thor, most of the people in this bay had been relocated to Deck Three. Only the severely injured remained, in preparation to be taken to Four, where you would help the volunteers organize a medica. That alone felt like enough to make your head explode.

The next woman stepped forward, and you pointed to the doorway. “Alright. Your rooms are corridor E, number 14–”

“I can get there,” she interrupted, lifting her chin. You paused, raising an eyebrow, before dropping your arm and nodding. She’d probably been a noble on Asgard, but it didn’t make a difference now. “Good. Then can you help others find their way?”

She looked at you for a moment, as if measuring you up, before nodding. “Yes.”

“Thank you,” you replied curtly, ushering her to the side. “Please do so.”

You reached up to your head tiredly, feeling a sudden, sharp pain behind your forehead. Of course. Just the time for a migraine. Motioning on of the volunteers to your side, you told them which rooms could be filled before stepping away. The pain was more intense now, like something dull pressed hard against your skull.

“Excuse me,” you muttered quietly, moving past a small group as you made your way towards the door. Your vision blurred as you walked and you stopped, holding one hand out for balance. A small part of your mind chastised you for not resting earlier. But you hadn’t had time…

Your steps grew more unbalanced as you came closer to the bay doors. Losing your footing, you bumped into someone, catching yourself on their arm.

“I’m so sorry,” you apologized, looking up blearily and recognising the man’s face– the one whose son you’d helped this morning. He held your elbow to support you, expression alarmed. Your lips parted slightly and you straightened, reaching up and pressing your palm to your forehead. “S-Sorry. How’s Avel?”

“We’re headed to our rooms now,” he answered, smiling tiredly. “I’ll bring Avel up when I’ve set blankets down for him.” Then his eyebrows creased in a frown. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” you answered quickly. Your lips tried to smile, but it felt like a cringe. “Just a headache.”

“Lie down if you can,” he advised, letting go of your elbow, hand outstretched to catch you if you lost your balance again. You nodded blearily, blinking a few times to shake the spots from your eyes.

“I will,” you promised, taking a careful step away from him, and turning towards the door.

The overhead lights seemed blinding as you continued– slower now –out of the bay. But the door seemed shaky… you knew there weren’t two doors, either. You reached up quickly and pressed your palms to your eyes, trying to banish the double vision as you took slow, wobbly steps.

You opened your eyes again, only a few feet from the door. Breathing an internal sigh of relief, you reached your hand to the wall to steady yourself, leaving the bay behind. You didn’t expect a simple trip to be so painfully tedious.

You didn’t expect to be struck to the ground upon exit, either.

Someone coming quickly around the corner slammed into you unintentionally, exclaiming in surprise. You fell to the ground underneath them, knocking your head against the floor. Pain blossomed at the back of your head.

You gasped in pain, trying to breathe and feeling a heavy weight against your chest.

“I’m terribly sorry,” a familiar voice said apologetically above you, grunting as they lifted themselves off of you. “I really didn’t mean–”

Your eyes snapped open, feeling a sickening, sudden anxiety in your stomach. 

_No. It couldn’t be._

You grimaced painfully, lifting yourself up onto your elbows as your vision wobbled, cleared and focused, three shapes becoming two shapes, becoming one. You shook your head, screwing your eyelids shut for a moment, before opening again.

You were met with two startled green eyes.


	3. Part Two

Loki fell from the bifrost nearly every night in his dreams.

Despite his screaming, begging, his pleading not to let go, knowing what lay ahead– the pain, the torture –it made no difference. He fell. And the nothingness that filled his lungs when he drifted through the abyss burned him to the core, drying his lungs like crisp, brittle rose petals. It stole the oxygen from his blood, turning him colder than he’d ever been on Jotunheim, feeling more hollow than he thought possible. Every waking moment in the blackness, searching for the faint lights of far-away stars, he was consumed by a loneliness so poignant that it pressed against his ribs with the weight of a thousand worlds.

But none of that compared to the moment Loki saw you.

You stared up at him, bewildered and pained, and he was breathless.

Your lips parted in disbelief, as you stared at the equally surprised face inches from yours. You exhaled, chest shuddering, blood pounding in your ears and alerting you to the loud pain at the base of your skill.

You grimaced, reaching behind you to touch gingerly. Loki’s eyebrows furrowed, noticing your expression, and without thinking, he reached out to touch you. “Are you h–”

You jerked back, sending your migraine reeling further when you scooted out from under him, standing up hurriedly. You could barely balance, squinting at the light, wincing from the pain. Trying to ignore the helpless look on his face.

So you left.

Turning on one heel, you caught yourself on the wall and staggered out of the bay, trailing your hand along the wall so you wouldn’t fall. The lights seemed impossibly bright, forcing your eyes to squeeze shut as you made your way as fast as you could manage.

Loki was alive. That couldn’t be. You’d been there when he died,_ held him_–

But here he was. And you felt like a shooting star crashing through the atmosphere, burning from the outside in.

“My lady!”

“Don’t,” you said weakly, scowling as you heard footsteps behind you. “Don’t even think about it.”

Loki caught up to you in one stride, slowing to your pace. “Y/N, I’m so sorry–”

“For what, exactly?” You snapped, stopping abruptly.

He halted, standing in front of you with his head bowed to see your face. His brow creased and he reached a hand out again, which you clumsily slapped away, staggering slightly.

“I said don’t even think about it.”

His green eyes were laced with confusion. “Y/N–”

“You were dead!” You shouted, shoving him back with both hands and nearly falling. “You lied to me for _two years_–”

“Please,” he pleaded softly, raising his hands. “Please, I never wanted–”

“–And you come back, in the midst of this, and what do you expect?!” You continued, your pitch elevating with every word. “What did you think I would do?!”

“I thought you were dead!” He yelled, stepping forward so quickly that you staggered back and hit the wall behind you, hard. “I searched everywhere in Asgard to find you!”

“Maybe I didn’t want to be found!” You shouted back, your voice breaking as a high-pitched ringing filled your ears.

Loki stared down at you in disbelief, mouth open slightly. He felt the breathlessness again– crushing him, overwhelming every thought or response on the tip of his silver tongue, drowning it in silence.

So he left.

You closed your eyes grimaced painfully, pressing your palms to your eyes as if you could will yourself to see straight. The ringing subsided, leaving you alone in the hallway, breathing hard as you leaned against the wall and listened to his footsteps as they faded away.

~

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Loki demanded, storming into the navigation room.

“Tell you what?” Thor asked innocently, looking up from the hologram he’d been consulting. He vaguely wished Hulk would turn into Banner already solely to help him deconstruct the complicated maps, but thus far Valkyrie had been unsuccessful in her attempts.

“That she was on board!”

“Who?”

“_Y/N,_” Loki clarified emphatically, placing both hands on the table across from his brother. His green eyes had an edge to them, making him seem skittish.

Thor frowned, shrugging. “I guess I thought you knew.”

“You thought I–” Loki made a dramatic, inarticulate gesture before running a hand back through his hair and pointing accusatorily across the table. “You’re an idiot.”

“Noted,” He replied, smiling before looking back down at the hologram. His brow furrowed as he scrolled through the maps with his index finger.

Loki’s mind was reeling. The words you’d shouted at him ran rampant through his head, uncontrollable and insistent. _Maybe I didn’t want to be found._

He’d always been able to meet you halfway. Be it in the gardens, on the battlefield, or the more private, emotional moments of your youth… despite your leatherhard exterior, he’d taken pleasure in the challenge of discovering who you were underneath your masks. But the one you’d been wearing today was unfamiliar to him.

“Why does it bother you, anyway?” Thor asked, looking up and squinting his one eye. “Aren’t you glad to see her, alive and well?”

“She obviously didn’t feel the same,” Loki responded flatly, looking skyward and exhaling heavily.

Thor shrugged his wide shoulders again, pressing his lips together as he picked up the handheld screen and walked over to one side of the room. “You did lie to her when you faked your death and pretended to be Odin for two years.” He tapped a few panels on the wall and slid the screen into a slot, magnifying the map. “If I recall correctly, before I left, she’d resigned herself to a state of grieving.”

“Yes, but if that were the case, then surely she’d be glad to see me alive!” Loki argued. “Weren’t you?”

Thor put his hands on his hips and chuckled deeply, glancing at his brother. “Well, yes, but my expectations of you are so dwindled that you lying about your death wasn’t that much of a surprise. Similar to being betrayed by you, oh, every other Tuesday.” He smiled graciously, raising his hand to move along the map. “I assume she thought you were just being honest when you pretended to waste away in her arms.”

“That’s putting it dramatically.”

“Are you ever not dramatic?”

“So I’m guilty of dishonesty. Are you suggesting I apologise to her?” Loki snapped.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” he agreed, his face sobering as he tapped the wall and removed the screen. He took a step back to look at Loki seriously as he set the glass device on the table. “Brother, listen well. Y/N has always been… guarded. I do not know her as you once did. But even then, you must know as I do that she has suffered enough for a lifetime.”

Loki pressed his lips together. “Yes.”

“Then, if there’s any compassion in that heart of yours, you know that it would do you well not to contribute to her suffering.”

~

The buzzer to your door rang again. You groaned, turning over on your side in the bed to stare at the blank wall. Exhaling heavily, you closed your eyes again and tried to settle back into sleep. Why couldn’t they leave you in peace for a few hours?

There were two short bangs on the door. “Y/N! We’re disembarking!”

Disembarking? That was new. Your eyes opened blearily as you reached upwards to touch your forehead. No migraine.

You breathed a silent sigh of relief, mentally scolding yourself to be more careful with your health. You couldn’t afford to be overtired, especially since you were an advisor to Thor now. _To the king of Asgard_, you corrected yourself, as you sat up and swung your legs off the edge of the bed._ Respect first and foremost, not friendship._ You weren’t really sure if the latter was entirely intact; time seemed to make brittle the bonds you made, not strengthen them.

You stood up, a bit wobbly, and shuffled over to the door, pressing your finger to the panel. It slid open, revealing Korg standing with his stony hand raised to knock again.

“Oh. Hello, miss. Sorry about the row,” he apologized. “It’s just that we’re set to disembark now. In Knowhere? King Thor said you’d want to–”

“Oh, damn,” you swore, your eyes widening. You reached for the door panel, hitting it and sprinting back to the bathroom. “I’ll be right there!” You called as the door slid shut.

How long had you been asleep? An anxious dread settled at the pit of your stomach as you opened the small clothing compartment in the wall, where your tattered dress was folded neatly in one corner. You pulled it out and slid it on quickly, ignoring your disheveled reflection in the mirror. In the crowded streets of Knowhere, how you looked wouldn’t make much difference. You laced up the front quickly, fingers stumbling over each other and tying the knot clumsily.

You ran to the door again, hitting the panel impatiently and sprinting out as soon as it slid open. You ran to the end of the hall, dodging a few Asgardians loitering by the windows. Had they finished housing everyone?

You could taste the self-loathing in your mouth. The one responsibility you’d been given, and you couldn’t complete it. Why had Thor put you in charge, anyway? You couldn’t even send everyone to their rooms before succumbing to a headache. What else had to be done for you while you’d slept?

Your bare feet skidded to a stop in front of a ladder chute, one of the many modes of transportation between decks. Pulling your sleeves over your palms, you gripped the metal poles and slid down quickly, descending past decks Three and Two quickly. You tightened your grip as the landing bay floor came into sight, the pads of your feet burning when you hit the ground.

“You’re late,” Heimdall called. You grimaced guiltily, jogging over, chest heaving slightly. He and Korg stood on the edge of the open bay as the ship descended, slowly locking into port. The doors were open, leaving the bright, busy world of Knowhere in full view: even this removed from the city itself, you could still hear the clamor of a hundred thousand voices, machines, and ships.

“I overslept,” you mentioned finally, curling your toes absently and crossing your arms. The door’s field was a barrier for oxygen, but the icy cold temperature of space leaked through, filling the room with a noticeable draft.

“That’s one word for it,” Korg interrupted, raising a finger. “You could also call it a minor coma. I mean, two and a half days, you must feel like shit, yeah? Still, that groggy feeling goes away eventually. I know I look like a heavy sleeper, but what’s interesting about that is…”

You looked at Heimdall in alarm as Korg’s voice became background noise. “T-Two and a half days?” you asked hesitantly.

“You’d have slept longer uninterrupted,” he pointed out gently. “You needed it.”

“I could’ve gone without,” you argued, frowning deeply. “It was irresponsible to-”

“-to succumb to fatigue?” he finished, the corner of his mouth quirking in a smile. “Yes. Overworking yourself was irresponsible.”

“To leave you alone to finish the work,” you corrected him. “It’s my job to oversee these things!”

“You expect too much of yourself.”

“I match others’ expectations of me,” you countered defensively.

“Then perhaps your perception is misguided,” Heimdall said quietly, his golden eyes flickering over to the hallway entrance of the bay.

“…and that’s how I got bailed out of jury duty on Zandar, which I can tell you, is something you do not want to experience,” Korg finished.

You were still staring out at Knowhere, chewing your lip as you felt the ship’s engines shut off beneath your feet. It was foolish to ignore Heimdall’s advice– that much you knew. The ship shuddered slightly as it locked in, jostling you slightly, but you were too lost in thought to notice the movement– much less the footsteps behind you.

“Quite a small party,” Loki commented, striding up beside you. His normally vibrant gold and greens were muted, plainer than usual: ideal for an inconspicuous trip through an unfamiliar city.

Korg nodded in agreement. “I thought about putting out pamphlets, but Thor told me we was handpicked, so I figured I’d follow his lead, yeah?”

“That was wise,” Heimdall said somberly.

You tightened your arms to your chest, inhaling deeply and closing your eyes. There was nothing you could do about it now but focus on the task at hand. Hopefully, you’d return to the ship with everything the Asgardians needed.

You opened your eyes, pressing your lips together and nodding to yourself. You just had to focus. Ignore everything else… _especially_ the person beside you.

Loki watched from the corner of his eye as your eyes flickered, his brows furrowing slightly. Every ounce of him wanted to whisk you away to the palace gardens, cradle you and whisper apologies against your lips, show you how truly sorry he was. But the gardens were gone, and he was left alone, struggling to breathe while your words echoed inside his mind like a chant. You’d said it yourself: you didn’t want to be found.

He locked his jaw and bit back the question on the tip of his tongue, staring out at the port. The walkway slid out from the bay, connecting to the ground. Without a word or a sideways glance, you took a long, deep breath, and walked forward into the middle of Knowhere.


	4. Part Three

The noise of Knowhere was overwhelming. The potent smells flooding your nose threatened to make you nauseous. Everywhere you turned, there were too many people to count. A cacophony of voices washed over your ears, both authentic and synthetic, vibrating in your skull as you stepped off the platform.

“One of a kind product, gents, from the fiery heart of–”

“–HIGH ALERT. TWO LIVE PRODUCTS LOOSE, CHECK SUSPECTS FOR SLAVE CODES–”

“–Blue and Gold X-Model carrier on deck B, your headlights are on–”

You felt your heart leap into your throat anxiously, though you couldn’t tell why. The advertisements had triggered a warning in your mind, that you were in danger … but it disappeared just as quickly as you’d felt it. How could anyone hear their own thoughts surrounded by this noise? It drowned your senses, leaving you wanting for clarity in touch or taste. The desire to run back to your rooms and crawl back into bed was almost overpowering. All you could feel was sound, and it wasn’t until you felt a strong hand on your shoulder that you realized you’d been wobbling.

You frowned, looking up at Loki’s face. It maintained a careful neutrality, but his eyes betrayed concern. A beat of silence passed between you before he let go, shifting his gaze to the moving crowds around you. You could still feel where his fingers had pressed gently into your skin, reminding you of times when he’d held you in his embrace, with both gentleness and strength so profound that you’d felt safe no matter the circumstances.

The sudden, overpowering nostalgia brought a flush to your cheeks, and you quickly cleared your throat, calling attention to the members of your small party.

“We shouldn’t waste time.”

The four of you descended into the massive crowds. You were reminded of being submerged by the waves of the warm ocean foam on a windy day. It surrounded and enveloped you, moving you where it pleased without any real rhyme or reason. But the ocean’s noise was deep and rhythmic, harmonic and synonymous. This was chaos.

“–on the run? Customizable escape rates–”

“–RED TATTOO. BOUNTY AVAILABLE FOR RETURNED CAPTURE OF–”

Before you knew it, you had joined the crowd and were being pushed along by the masses, standing on tiptoes to try and spot the rest of your party. Nervous anxiety rose in your throat again as you tried and failed to identify your friends. All sorts of creatures were here, none of them with the familiar raven hair and emerald eyes you were looking for.

“–scrappers, come to Red Plaza, submit your goods for pawning–”

“–live races starting in one hour! place your bets inside–”

A familiar hand grabbed yours and pulled you to the side of the wide walkway, out of the swell. Loki’s shoulders were set firmly, gauging the crowd like it was a threat. Then he looked down and let out a grunt of surprise.

You frowned. “What?”

He raised an eyebrow, letting go of your hand and bringing his fingers to his lips, as if deciding how bluntly he wanted to phrase his question. “Have you already been robbed of your footwear, no less than five minutes into this excursion?”

A sudden laugh bubbled in your throat and you covered your mouth quickly, shaking your head. “No, um – no, certainly not. They were recommissioned into an arm brace several days ago.”

His expression cleared, nodding in understanding. “I see. That may be our first order of business, then.”

“There you are,” Heimdall called, stepping towards you. While you had blended in with the swarms, Heimdall and Korg seemed to repel the crowds. To be fair, Korg’s size and Heimdall’s sword were both rather rugged and imposing. No wonder they were given space.

Heimdall glanced over the two of you, one eyebrow raised.“I think it would be wise for us to stay together, if at all possible.”

You bowed your head, nodding. “Apologies.”

He raised a hand dismissively. “No need for that. You’re not under my authority anymore, remember?”

This cracked your lips into a smile, looking up at your former partner-in-exile with a twinkle in your eye, wiggling your toes. “Old habits.”

Loki’s eyebrows were pulled into a frown, watching your easy interaction with Heimdall. The two of you obviously had no lost time to make up for. Had you been with him, all this time?

For a god of mischief, he hated this riddle. In hindsight, your initial anger towards him on the ship was unsurprising, and your hesitation now to interact with him equally so – but Loki felt obnoxiously impatient. Why couldn’t the two of you simplify things by sitting together and discuss what had happened? Though, if he were that close to you, he was certain you’d be doing more than talking.

Loki’s eyes fell to your face. He was so busy watching the shape of your lips, thinking of how they would feel against his, that he didn’t absorb the words coming out of them.

“Loki?”

“Mm?” his baritone hum was almost dreamy.

You pressed your lips together with a flat expression and repeated your question. “Do you know anything about the city’s layout? Where we can find subsistence resources, fabrics, shoes…”

Loki’s eyebrows raised briefly before he shook his head. “Unfortunately, the nature of this changes all the time. Street vendors move constantly.” He shrugged, reaching up to rub his neck, and chuckled dryly. “Significant landmarks are the only indications that they don’t rebuild the place each day.”

“ – grafted nebula charms, all colors–”

“–BOUNTY FOR SAFE RETURN OF LIVE PROPERTY, LOOK FOR RED SLAVE CODES–” 

You sighed, nodding. “Better get started exploring, then.”

~

You quickly became thankful for the height advantages of your companions. They became your eyes in the seas of the crowd, alerting you to stalls and wares you’d expressed interest in specifically. Though Loki had offered to lift you onto his shoulders at one point, you’d politely declined. Just being around him was almost more than you could handle.

Two years. You could chronicle them entirely by Loki. The first few months of denial, unable to believe that it wasn’t another mischievous joke or wicked plot. Then mourning– immersed in a sadness so deep that you couldn’t explain or understand it. The kind that only came from losing friends, or more-than-friends.

And resignation. Leaving the populated city to find solace, and devoting yourself to Heimdall’s mission once Hela returned to Asgard. That had been a safe place for you to heal, to allow Asgard’s forests and mountains to provide you with a sense of safety. You’d begun to think of yourself as one of the elder trees– only a sapling –but standing beneath the bows of ancient giants and knowing, despite all this, you would grow as tall as they had.

And now you were here, and the one person who had caused your life to shift so dramatically in such a small space of time was walking in front of you, eyes flitting over the crowd, strands of tousled raven hair falling over his ears despite the long fingers that repeatedly tucked it back. Acting, for all the world, like he didn’t know how much you’d hurt him.

Perhaps you hadn’t healed at all. The wound felt fresh whenever you looked at him, pulling hard on something deep in your chest that spurned emotional chaos inside. 

“There, past the building on the corner,” Heimdall motioned to something up ahead, speaking over the clamor. “A botanist.”

“Thank the Norns,” You murmured, pulling yourself out of your thoughts and reaching for Heimdall’s cloak. “Lead me to them.”

Your party began moving against the crowd, gradually breaking free of the swell and headed towards the small, inconspicuous stall propped up next to a loudly painted building. Once you were no longer surrounded by a swarm of bodies, your ears tuned into the various hearsays and announcements.

“–lady like some clothes? Several different styles–”

“–HIGH ALERT. TWO LIVE PRODUCTS LOOSE–”

“–couple of healing gems and aryonite crystals, if you’ll come and see–”

“These vendors are shameless,” Loki muttered irritably. The corners of your lips twitched, trying not to smile. Your expression dropped quickly when the doors of the corner building, obviously a bar, burst open, and the noise of the row filled the air.

Two individuals staggered drunkenly in the center of a fast-forming circle, chanting and whooping. They jostled with the preexisting crowd, upsetting the flow of traffic and pushing around wildly as the two began to brawl in the center. Someone slammed into you and you staggered, letting go of Heimdall’s cloak for an instant and immediately disappearing into the swell. You felt panic rise in your chest, amplifying the screaming and shouting around you. Bodies mashed against each other, stepping on your feet and slamming into your body until you couldn’t have told up from down if you tried.

Then you were in the circle.

One of the drunkards – the blue-skinned one – had obviously won the match. He took a few dizzy, unbalanced steps, looked at his unconscious adversary drooling into the dirt, and grinned at you wildly. A pair of hands shoved you forward amidst whooping and cheering.

You grimaced, knowing your numb feet were bloody. Your mind churned, spurring anxiety and bitter thoughts. These people were so impaired, they couldn’t tell you from Korg if they tried. No amount of reasoning would convince them that you weren’t eager to brawl.

The last thing you wanted to do was involve yourself in a bar fight. The man was obviously hammered, and you seriously doubted he’d be much of a challenge sober. Still, you were in no condition to spar on rough ground, in bare feet, and a tattered dress. Your anxiety grew, weighing down your chest and filling your lungs. Where was Heimdall?

Someone in the crowd kicked you hard behind the knee. You shouted and fell to your knees, feeling broken glass cut into your skin, slicing your palms. Your vision blurred red around the edges. You ripped your tattered sleeve and wrapped the soiled material over your fingers, reaching for a long shard of green glass with grim determination.

Fine. If you had to fight your way out, so be it.

The volume of the circle rose as you did, standing unsteadily, gripping your weapon in your hand. The man’s lazy eyes drifted from your face down to the shard of glass, and back up again. His mind registered slowly, an ugly scowl forming on his face. He sniffed, shrugged his shoulders, and brought two fists up. The crowd roared in approval, amplifying the blood roaring in your ears.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek nervously. You didn’t want to instigate this. It would be easier to defend yourself against his sluggish movements than to predict them.

Luckily, he made the decision for you with a swing to your face.

You inhaled sharply and pulled your head back, his knuckles missing your jaw by inches. The ground shook with the approval of the crowd, thrashing around as they taunted the both of you.

Acting quickly, you ducked under his next punch and swung your arm towards his chest. You felt resistance in your arm as your weapon sliced through his leather jacket and the skin beneath.

He gasped, both hands going to his waist in shock, surprised to feel hot pain amidst his alcohol-induced numbness.

You wasted no time in his response, shouting as you raised a foot and slammed down his kneecap, bringing him to a kneel before you swung your other leg up and connected with his jaw.

The noise was deafening. The people swelled all around you, breaking the circle as some of them returned inside, others gradually dissipating when they finally realized it was over.

You stood still, watching the crowds move, your expression pained. Now that you could feel your own heartbeat, the rest of your body regained feeling as well. The most potent pain was your feet, cut open and covered in dust. They stung angrily, sending waves of pain every time you shifted your weight and pressed against open skin.

_Maybe I’ll close my eyes,_ you thought, _and end this dream. I’ll open my eyes to the morning sun, and go out to the gardens with Loki._

Loki…

~

“Y/N!”

Loki’s voice was nearly hoarse by now. He’d never realized how truly obnoxious the noise here was. He couldn’t hear a damn thing, not even his own thoughts, which were screaming at him more relentlessly than all the tumultuous sound outside his head. How could he let you slip out of his fingers? One moment of chaos, and you’d been swept away. His stomach churned in self-loathing as he pushed through the crowds, ignoring the vendors and announcements calling out from every direction.

“–one-way tickets to Zandar, tourist destinations–”

“–CODE DISPLAYED BY RED TATTOO. BOUNTY AVAIL–”

“–skin dyes! Multi-colored shades and–”

Loki set his jaw and closed his eyes briefly. He could feel anger simmering below his skin, coming to a boil and bunching his nerves into knots. He’d been up and down this avenue for the better part of twenty minutes, but neither you nor your other companions were anywhere to be found.

He swore quietly, opening his eyes and shaking his head before pressing his lips together. Two shadows of himself stepped out from behind him, slipping through the crowd as translucent green ghosts. It was draining and dangerous, but perhaps he would find you faster this way. That was all that mattered.

The corner building where he’d first lost you came into sight. The crowd outside was still thrashing about drunkenly, though it seemed to have dissipated somewhat. Loki wondered absently if the fight had been at all interesting. 

He came closer, stepping out of the traffic and looking for you. Between three pairs of eyes, his vision was becoming incredibly stretched and blurry. He stopped walking and huffed angrily, flicking his wrist and extinguishing the two shadows. There was no point looking for you when he couldn’t actually see.

Loki counted his breaths as he waited for his vision to sharpen completely, flicking over the intoxicated bar crowd, and noting the blue figure lying in the dust. He raised his eyebrows briefly as the crowd shifted and another figure on the ground came into sight, sprawled on the ground like his adversary.

He was certain there had only been two men in the fight. Then who…?

Loki’s eyes sharpened and came into focus on you, standing in the midst of the crowd like a star orbited by careening asteroids. His stomach dropped when he saw blood splattered over your feet, crimson dripping from one wrapped hand. Your eyes were far away, staring off into the crowd as if your soul had already departed to someplace warm. Then your legs buckled.

He ran, hitting his knees against the ground as he caught you. You gasped, dropping the shard of glass as his strong arms wrapped around you, lifting you onto his legs and leaning back on his heels to keep your bloodied feet off the ground.

“You really need shoes,” he laughed weakly, grimacing internally at the break in his voice that betrayed how frightened he was. But you hadn’t noticed. Instead, you laughed, your own chest shaking as you dropped your head onto his shoulder. You stayed there for a moment, the pain in your muscles lessened slightly by his closeness, holding you firm, still and quiet despite the chaos around you.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you admitted ruefully, wincing as you leaned away from him. “I don’t think I could’ve made it back if I tried.”

His eyebrows pulled together slightly and he stared at you for a moment, his eyes deep and quiet as they searched your face. His silver tongue laid still in his mouth, choosing his words with scrupulous care.

“If you wanted to be found,” he said finally, his voice low, “then I swear I’d never rest until I reached you.”

Your lips parted in surprise and you stared at him, repeating his statement over in your head. Loki must be joking. But his gaze was so earnest, flickering over your face with nothing but fondness in them, that you felt unbidden tears spring to your eyes.

You reached up quickly, making a motion of brushing your hair out of your face, making sure to whisk away any tears. Now was not the time.

You inhaled deeply, nodding, waiting for the beat of silence to pass before cracking a weak smile. “So, shoes?”

His eyes glossed over slightly and he pressed his lips together, keeping his expression carefully neutral. Loki slung one arm under your legs, grunting as he stood with you in his arms, and shifting you slightly with a nod.

“I do think that’s our first order of business.” He shifted his shoulder to gesture down the alley. “There’s a leathersmith a little ways down.”

You nodded absently. “There, then.”

Loki tightened his grip on you and began walking, holding you close as you travelled through the crowd. From this higher point of view, it didn’t seem as daunting, but no less loud. You settled your head onto his shoulder again and closed your eyes, letting the waves of noise wash over you.

“–bidding starts in 30 minutes! Dri–”

“–be right back, I left my lights on–” 

“–SUSPECTS FOR RED SLAVE CODES–”

Your eyes snapped open. The feeling of dread you’d experienced before had returned, clenching the airways in your throat. Loki felt you tense in his arms and looked down, slowing his pace.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, silently chastising yourself for giving away your anxiety. Besides, there was nothing you could do about it now. You fingered with the torn hem of your sleeve, stretching the fabric as you tried to pull it over your wrist, but to no avail.

“Shoes for the lovely lady?”

You realised Loki had reached the vendor. You stammered slightly, coming out of your thoughts. “Um, sorry. Yes, I need–”

“No need to apologize,” the wrinkled woman rasped. Her stall was simply a blanket, with various chests and leather pieces surrounding the old chair she sat in. Her lined face had a curious expression, almost scheming. “Show me your feet.”

Loki knelt on the blanket and set you down gently, keeping an arm on your waist as you pulled up the ragged hem of your dress. If the woman noticed your state of disrepair, she paid no mind to it– or to the dried blood on your soles. Her aura felt charged with forced serenity, as though she existed in a constant state of willing herself towards calm. Somehow, you were unsurprised when she ran over the dried blood with a wet rag, murmuring under her breath.

You felt Loki tense as soon as she touched your skin, his fingers stiffening against your waist. You reached back with one hand and set it on his knee, glancing at him with eyes that said_ it’s fine._ He stared back at you with equal resolve, but shrugged his shoulders moved his hand away from you, turning his head to watch the crowds pass.

“Never let someone buy shoes with dirty feet,” the woman spat, although her bitterness didn’t seem aimed at you in anyway. She folded the now-stained cloth and set it aside, standing up slowly and rummaging through one of the open chests. You vaguely wondered if the shoes were clean. Considering her aversion to unkempt feet, it wasn’t entirely unlikely.

Her gravelly voice drew you from your thoughts once more. “Try these.” She held a pair of soft brown boots with hard soles. You reached out to take them, your torn sleeves shrinking back and exposing your red-stained wrist from where you’d held the shard of glass.

The woman’s eyes flickered to your wrist as you took the boots, licking her dry lips. The wrinkles in her face were deepened as she squinted, tilting her head to watch you put them on.

“Get in a skirmish?”

Your heart skipped a beat and you fumbled with the laces as you tried to reply. “Y-yes. Nothing bad.”

“I’d hope not,” the woman said, sounding like she meant the opposite. Her eyes were fixed to the red stains on your hands. You watched her, slowly tying a knot in the first boot. Suddenly the air felt uneasy.

She knelt down quickly, her face twitching as she smiled. It was an unnatural, stiff expression. “Here, let me.” Her bony fingers reached for the strings and you let go reluctantly, glancing to look at Loki. His eyes were glazed over as he looked around, obviously absorbed in thought.

Suddenly the woman snatched your wrist and you shrieked. Her yellow nails dug into your skin and her wrinkled face contorted in a wicked smile.

“Thought so,” she crooned, tightening her grip on your wrist. 

You gasped in pain as her nails pressed painfully against your veins. Below her fingers, engraved on the skin of your inner arm, was a faded red code.


	5. Part Four

Before you could react, you’d been pulled away from Loki by two uniformed men, dragging you hurriedly through the crowd. You heard him calling your name desperately before the tumultuous clamor of the street drowned him out, lost once again in a sea of bodies. 

You turned your head wildly, strands of hair falling in front of your face as you tried to find him, Heimdall, anyone willing to help you. But the masses seemed to lean away from you and your escorts, under the false assumption that you were an escaped piece of live property.**  
**

That wasn’t your identity. Not anymore.

You’d been a child then, knowing no other reality besides the stinking rot and misery of slave barracks, the backbreaking labor and permanent calluses on your hands and nights spent with iron bars between you and your mother. Your eyes had seen nothing of the world, and yet they held an insatiable hunger to glimpse the universe outside. You longed to feel the sun long enough to be kissed by it.

And you’d found that the world outside was full of sun-kissed moments. Begging you to live your best, to make up for the wretched world you were born into. The tattoo on your wrist was a birthmark of sorts; it had been made a part of you from the beginning. It was your birthright, red as blood. 

You’d disowned that part of you. You had tried time and time again to burn the mark from your arm until it was almost unrecognizable.

You refused to be starved of the sunlight again.

Trying to distract your captors, you began struggling against their grip. You were grateful for the leather boots around your feet, protecting your heels as they dragged across the rough ground. They made it less painful when you slammed the toe of your boot against one of their legs.

You opened your mouth to scream, but a gloved hand clapped over your mouth, muffing the shout. You bit down hard against the fabric and the slave guard yelped, letting go of you. For one precious second, you were free.

It wasn’t an opportunity you wasted. Leaping away from the men, you sprinted to the end of the street, turning a corner and diving into the middle of the crowd. Your heart was pounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears, but you felt relieved. Now, your size was an asset, and it would be easier to hide.

The only trouble was that you were harder to find. Loki had found you before, but it had taken him longer than you’d have liked. You would have to be the one to seek him out, this time.

Ducking under someone’s arm, you fell into step with the pace of the crowd, making your way slowly towards the edges until you could easily step out of the current.

The bright, alluring patterns of a fabric vendor caught your eye and you moved quickly through the stalls, taking a deep breath. It was important to seem normal. It was doubtful you’d escape a second time, if you were caught.

Loosening your shoulders and pursing your lips, you formed your expression into that of a curious, unsuspecting customer and walked up, examining the fabrics. Immersing yourself in the role was easy. After all, you had stepped off the freight ship with the same purpose in mind.

“Looking for something?”

You jumped slightly, before realizing it was simply the vendor, who sat shrouded in the corner with threads wrapped around his long fingers.

You forced yourself to relax and shrugged. “Are these hand-woven fabrics?” You ran your fingers over a muted green twill.

“Most. The one in your hands is. If you’re interested in bulk purchases, I’d recommend the plainer patterns. Those are machine work.”

“Helpful,” you murmured, mostly to yourself, before walking over to the patterns he’d described. A small gasp of delight escaped your lips as you realized they weren’t garish, unsightly colors, but similar to the fabrics of old Asgard.

His grey eyebrow quirked up. “Impressed?”

“Pleased,” you corrected, smiling. _Finally, some progress towards your mission. _“I’d like … four spools of those five, please. And one spool of the green.” You pulled a small, glass tablet from your dress pocket and tapped a few times, your hair falling into your face. “And I need them delivered to the freight that’s docked in landing port E 32. How many credits?”

“Twelve thousand,” he responded.

You frowned, lips parted to argue that it was a high price, before shaking your head slightly and transferring the credits. The intergalactic market changed all the time. You hadn’t used this currency for years, but inflation rose and fell so fast that haggling over a price would be a waste of time.

He handed back the tablet, which you pocketed with a polite smile. “When will they be there?”

“Errand boy will be back within the hour,” he said. His aged voice held a melodic quality. “Three hours at most.”

A sudden blare of noise hit your ears as the regular announcements fired up again, temporarily jarring you into a state of heightened anxiety.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, pulling the green twill off its spool and wrapping it over your head before slipping out and into the crowd again.

The twill was woven thick and stiff, pulled over your hair and held up to cover your features. With any luck, you’d find an apothecary and a botanist on your way back to the ship. If you could find your way back, that is.

Loki found you at the heart of Knowhere, his eyes widening when he spotted your face. It was you – the bridge of your nose was smudged with dirt, and a green fabric was pulled over your hair, but he’d know those sparkling eyes anywhere. The same eyes he’d compared to Asgard’s brightest constellations in the poetry of his youth.

_Gods, when was the last time he’d written poetry?_

You were engaged in haggling with the vendor of a medicine stall. He watched from the other side of the street as your lips moved, gently pursed as you listened to a counter-offer.

A smile played on the corners of Loki’s mouth. He could remember long winter days spent in the libraries, listening and watching your lips move as you argued with him over the subtexts and themes of old novels. Stealing you away from your father’s work for a few, short hours, just to listen to your lilting voice– it’s melodic quality carried him away from the world in a way nothing else could.

Your father. Loki winced vaguely at the remembrance of him. _It was a shame he hadn’t survived Ragnarok– Asgard could have used his talents_. _Then again,_ Loki thought as he watched you smile kindly, _you’re all we need._

A clamor down the street snapped Loki from his thoughts. He ducked his head as two slave guards pushed their way through the crowds, keeping you in the corner of his eye. You were still speaking with the vendor, arranging your bag of goods.

His chest deflated slightly once they passed. Making his way carefully, Loki slipped across the street, stepping out of the current of traffic and coming up behind you.

“–thank you,” you finished, smiling at the vendor and picking up your sack of medicinal items. You turned around and walked right into Loki.

He caught your arms before you stumbled, chuckling in his chest when you shrieked. The green covering slipping off your head.

You struggled to speak for a moment, reaching for the cloth around your neck as you looked up at him. His green eyes were twinkling when he let go of your arms, shrugging slightly.

“Took you long enough,” you quipped, pulling the covering over your face and peering up at him. “I was beginning to think I’d been left behind.”

He raised an eyebrow. “My lady, when have I ever failed you?”

“One thing does come to mind.”

Loki groaned, raising a hand to rub his eyes. “How many times must I apologize for that?”

“Every day until your heart gives out inside your chest,” you jabbed half-heartedly. The subject was still a sore spot in your chest. Maybe even still bleeding– but the smirk he was giving you now made it hurt a little less.

“Very well,” Loki conceded, breaking the silence. “You deserve that at the very least.” He pressed his lips together and gave you a thin, rueful smile, his eyes catching yours for a second to long.

You felt your cheeks flush and your eyes fell to look at the dust on your boots. _Why did he keep looking at you?_

Before you could come to any sort of revelation, Loki snatched you by the waist and pulled you into a narrow alleyway. You started to protest, but he quickly touched one long finger to your lips, tilting his head to guide your attention towards the street.

A group of slave guards was sifting through the crowd, walking between stalls and casting glances at vendors. One of them milled through the apothecary’s stand where you had stood only moments before.

You could feel Loki’s heartbeat in his chest, pressed flush against yours. There was no room in the alleyway for anything else– the gap between buildings was barely wide enough to accommodate your bodies pressed together. The lack of space trapped his arm behind you, his hand splayed out against the small of your back.

One of the guards turned to look in your direction and you felt Loki’s fingers dig into your skin. Your cheeks flushed again. This was turning out to be a very trying afternoon.

“Well, this is a minor inconvenience,” he muttered.

“The lack of space?” you scoffed.

“The guards,” he clarified, without turning to look at you. Loki’s gaze was fixed upon your adversaries, wide and alert. “The space is nothing new,” he added offhandedly. A smirk played on the corners of his mouth despite his concentration. “Remind you of anything?”

Your heart somersaulted at the memory. Gods, that was a long time ago.

“Shut up,” you groaned, leaning your head against the wall and turning your gaze skyward– anything to keep you from staring at him, the curve of his lips, his jaw, how close he was. 

“Only if you say please.”

“I’m _not_ in the gaming mood,” you warned him, narrowing your eyes and ignoring the heat in your face. You felt the vibration in his chest when he chuckled through his nose, the laugh lines around his eyes crinkling for a moment.

“Oh. Hang on,” he said, pulling you closer to him as the guards slipped out of sight. “I think we may have an opportunity.” His eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he turned to look at you, accidentally bumping noses. “Sorry– can you run?”

“I doubt it,” you admitted ruefully. While you’d been ignoring the numb pain in your feet for the better part of the hour, the cuts on your feet had by no means disappeared.

“I’ll carry you,” Loki offered easily.  
  
He moved to bend down and lift you up, but you quickly shook your head, being careful not to bump noses again. “No, that’ll draw more attention to us. We should try and walk.”

“We won’t make it far,” he argued.

“I said _try_, you brooding pessimist,” you rebutted, blowing a loose strand of hair from your face.

Loki glared at you, wearing his trademarked expression of insult. “Fine. But if they see you, I’m picking you up.”

“Fine,” you mimicked. You waved your hand flippantly towards the street. “Lead the way.”

“I don’t remember you this obstinate,” Loki muttered, pulling you out of the alley and guiding you quickly into the crowds. This time, he kept his arm firmly set around your waist, the cloth of your dress bunched up in the nervous grip of his fist. “Put the wrap on.”

You obeyed, pulling the green cloth over your hair and tucking the end up over your nose. The warmth of your breath fanned back against your face as you watched the crowds, unconsciously gripping his arm.

Loki’s muscles tensed beneath the fabric of his shirt when he saw a guard, relaxing again as he passed you without a second glance. 

You leaned towards him, eyes twinkling. “Told you.”

“We’re not there yet,” he warned, turning the corner and heading for the ship. The crowds began to thin out. The sudden lack of cover heightened your anxiety as the destination came into sight. A voice rang out in the street.

“Hey! Stop!”

“Keep walking,” Loki instructed quietly, pulling you closer to him and pressing his lips to your ear. “You’ve nothing to be afraid of.” You nodded shakily, tightening your grip on the fabric of his clothing, ignoring the bursts of pain in your feet as you quickened your pace towards the freight ship.

“Stop!”

Three slave guards had gathered on the street, surrounding you. You felt your heart rise in your throat, screaming for you to run. The ship was so close–

Loki slowed his pace, smiling easily as he put his free hand up in the air. “Come now, there’s no need for this–”

One of the men reached for you, grabbing your arm and attempting to yank you from Loki’s grip. Loki lashed out quickly, pulling you against his chest with one arm and brandishing a dagger with the other. The guard staggered backwards, his hands pressed against the red gash in his chest.

“Again,” Loki growled, flicking his hair to the side, “there’s no need for this.”

You closed your eyes, biting your lip anxiously. You could feel the staccato rhythm of his heartbeat, and at the same time, the sound of a cocked gun. An unintelligible question. Loki’s chest vibrated as he answered. The cuts in your soles was almost impossible to ignore now, sending shooting pain up your legs, making it hard to stand.

Suddenly there was a clamor of movement and you dropped to your knees as Loki was pulled away from you.

A hand pulled the cloth from your head, snatching your arm and pushing up the sleeve. Loki’s grass-green eyes met yours where he knelt in the dirt, hands raised, the nose of a gun pressed against his head.

You felt unbidden tears spring to your eyes as he stared at you intently, lips parted, trying to speak volumes with only a glance. Your eyes darted over his face, desperately trying to memorize every detail, from the curve of his cheekbones to the curl of his hair. You’d never see him again.

“It’s okay,” he mouthed silently, raising his eyebrows.

Despite the comfort he was trying to convey, you knew the ultimatum: slave codes were valid till death or re-branded by ownership. It didn’t matter that you weren’t the missing captive. This was the end of it: the sun-filled freedom you had enjoyed for most of your life was fading like the light of a dying star.

“There’s nothing there,” the slave guard said.

You almost choked.

He held up your wrist to the leader of the group before letting it drop into your lap. You tried your hardest not to gawk at the blank skin, standing unsteadily to your feet as the guards dispersed. The burning pain in your feet was white noise compared to your thoughts. _How…?_

Loki.

Your eyes looked up to meet his as he brushed the dust off one sleeve, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. He smiled faintly, waving one hand in a curling gesture and chuckling as you gasped at the green light that enveloped your skin. The pattern on your wrist reappeared, faded and scarred as ever.

“I tried to tell you–” he began, but you pressed your finger to his curved lips.

You opened your mouth to speak, but unbidden tears spilled over from your glistening eyes and you flung your arms around his neck instead, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” you sobbed, your chest shuddering with tearful laughter as you buried your face in the crook of Loki’s neck. You felt his strong arms wrap around you, his thumbs making restless circles in your back. You stood there for a long moment, trembling in his arms until the tearful moment subsided and you could finally catch your breath.

“Will you let me carry you on board, at least?” He murmured, and you nodded into his shoulder. He swung you up into his arms without a word, holding you tight against his chest. You closed your eyes and let one final, relieved sob escape your chest as Loki carried you up the ramp, away from the trials and tribulations of Knowhere.


End file.
